Solace in the Shadows
by Wtiger5
Summary: Faramir has been haunted by a shadowy figure in his dreams since childhood. Will he at long last discover who has been invading his sleep? Written for Teitho Challenge: Dreams. Oneshot


_A/N: I don't own LOTR. Everything belongs to Tolkien. Thanks to Linda for the beta reads._

Lightning flashed across the darkened sky. Rumbles of thunder quickly followed. For a brief instant the Tower of Ecthelion stood out in stark relief against the gloom.

Inside the Citadel's stone walls, a young man looked up from the scroll he was reading. He rose and strode to the window, staring out at the storm raging outside. Silence reigned for a few brief moments before the echoes of thunder came again.

Boromir turned his head as a soft sound caught his attention. Abruptly the door connecting his room with his younger brother's banged open and Faramir appeared and stood framed in the opening. His grey eyes were wide open and his body trembled as he sought the comforting presence of his elder sibling. The eight year old boy launched himself forward as a particularly loud clap of thunder sounded. He buried his face against Boromir's chest and his arms snaked around his brother's waist. Boromir enveloped the shaking form in his arms and kissed the top of the dark head.

"Shh. It's alright, little brother. You're safe here." He murmured softly, rubbing gentle circles on Faramir's back. "Was it the storm that frightened you?"

Faramir quickly shook his head. "No, I had a bad dream," he choked out. Tears began to spill down his cheeks, soaking into Boromir's shirt.

His words gave his elder brother pause. "Was it one of your visions?" he asked slowly, pulling back to look Faramir in the eye.

The younger boy shook his head a second time. "I don't think so, but I'm not certain. It was merely a man. He had the dark hair and grey eyes of our people, but he was wielding a sword wreathed in silver light, his face was both fey and dangerous and there was an air of power about him. He terrified me. Then I woke up and the storm was all around me and I didn't want to be alone in my room." His words tumbled out in a breathless rush as if he were trying to convince himself that the images he had seen were not real.

Boromir favoured his brother with a kind smile. "It's alright, Miri. You don't have to talk about it if you do not wish to." He pulled his brother into another hug. "Come, you can spend the rest of the night with me."

The night was quiet and calm as Ithil bathed the land in his silver light. Inside the Rangers' base at Henneth Annun, Damrod looked up from the bird he was whittling as soft whimpers came to his ears from the captain's private room. His gaze sharpened as the sounds became muttered words. He sensed another Ranger coming to his side as he debated whether or not to enter Faramir's sanctuary.

"That's the third time in as many weeks." Mablung's voice murmured. "It is worrisome that these dreams have come so soon after the Captain-General's departure into the wild."

Damrod nodded, his eyes focused on the drawn curtain. Coming to a quick decision, he laid aside his carving and rose, silently slipping into the darkened recess. As his sight adjusted to the dimness, he could make out the sleeping form of his friend and captain on the bed. Faramir's face was drawn as his body tossed back and forth.

"Captain!" the Ranger called softly, placing a gentle hand on Faramir's shoulder. "Wake up," he called again, more loudly. Suddenly Faramir's eyes flew open and he jerked away from the touch, drawing a small blade from under his pillow as he moved. Damrod brought his hands up, palms turned outwards in a gesture of peace. "It's only me, Miri."

Faramir stared at him unblinkingly for several long moments before recognition flooded back into his eyes.

"Forgive me, my friend." Faramir murmured as he attempted to slow his breathing and regain his composure.

Damrod nodded his acceptance as he watched his Captain return to his senses. "Do you want to talk about it, Mir?"

Faramir sighed as he ran a hand over his tousled hair before throwing back the blankets and rising to his feet. He moved across the room to a small basin sitting in the corner and splashed some water onto his face and hands. He sighed again as a deep seated fatigue washed over him. He bowed his head, closing his eyes to will away the dull ache behind his eyes. He jumped slightly when Damrod placed an arm around his shoulders. The young Captain looked up to see the unspoken question in his companion's eyes. "It's not the dream that sent Boromir to Rivendell. It's something else, something that has plagued me since I was a child. My brother is the only one I have entrusted with this information." A wry smile touched his lips. "At least until now. Come, let us make some tea and I shall tell you of the man that invades my slumber."

Faramir opened his eyes to a barren wasteland, devoid of life. Dust raised by a dry wind, swirled around him. There were no landmarks as far as the eye could see. He slowly turned around, attempting to gain his bearings. His lips were chapped and his mouth parched as he stumbled forward along a non-existent path. He did not know exactly how long he wandered before his legs gave out. He collapsed face first into the dirt. His entire being ached for water and rest. His eyes, half closed in exhaustion, were smarting and reddened from the foul vapours in the air. He coughed harshly, his lungs fighting to expel the dust that filled them. His weary mind was dimly aware of the sound of footsteps coming toward him and a faint voice calling his name.

Drawing upon his last reserves of strength, he turned his head to look at the stranger. Fear coursed through him when the face which had haunted his dreams since childhood came before him. Yet this time, there was something different. The grey eyes which before had always brought him such dread, now looked upon him with gentleness. The power remained there, but it was tempered with love and compassion. A sense of peace and belonging flooded Faramir's weary body. With a start, he realized who knelt at his side. Faramir's voice failed him as the dryness in his mouth choked his throat. The hand that drew him to his feet was both healer and liege. He felt his weariness slipping away as the very air around him lightened as if being reborn. His eyes closed as he breathed in the refreshing scent.

Aragorn watched carefully as his patient stirred, his chest now rising and falling in a steady rhythm. Faramir's eyelids fluttered open as the younger man's gaze met his.

"_My lord, you called me. I come. What does the king command?"_

"_Walk no more in the shadows, but awake!" said Aragorn. "You are weary. Rest a while, and take food, and be ready when I return."_

"_I will, lord," said Faramir. "For who would lie idle when the king has returned?"__1_

Long after Aragorn had departed, Faramir lay in his bed marvelling at the events that had unfolded around him. With a sudden clarity, he finally understood the visions his dreams had shown him. He realized he had seen the king in his unbridled glory and had feared him only as a small child fears that which he does not understand. The dread was gone, replaced with an intense loyalty and love. He would follow this man to the bounds of Arda and beyond if he were called to do so. As the night deepened, Faramir's eyes closed in a peaceful slumber, unhindered by any troublesome dreams.

1 Return of the King: The Houses of Healing. JRR Tolkien


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